Eau de Toilette Revival *Creative Writing Assignment*
Liz Claiborne Sport.
Cheap perfume.
Expensive to my eighth grade tastes.
It smelled crisp and clean.
Clean. Like my reputation.
This low-grade eau de toilette,
Brings back memories
I'd rather forget.
This perfume was worn
On my trip to Pensacola, Florida.
Home of white sand beaches
And fun times,
But not for me.
For me, it was the home
Of the Brownsville Revival.
While millions of Spring Breakers
Searched to find drinks and sex,
I was searching for Jesus.
God had taken residence in Florida
Like some worn out retiree.
Hovering over the Brownsville Church
Working his "wonders."
Shy, inadequate, lonely,
I was a typical adolescent.
Combine an overwhelming mixture
Of religious zealotry
And an engulfing guilt complex,
And you get an accurate portrayal
Of the eighth grade me.
One whiff of Miss Claiborne's creation
And I'm suddenly in a hotel room
In Pensacola
With my dearth of cosmetics
In my cosmetics bag.
Beauty? An evil vanity
A waste of time
That could be spent on The Lord.
I remember the crush
On the boy who was "delivered"
From homosexuality.
I think on it now
And realize, he was just denying
Who he really was
And he will lead a miserable life.
I remember the shaking,
The speaking in tongues,
The falling down.
"Slain in the Spirit,"
"Drunk on the Spirit,"
Giggling religious idiots
Rolling on the floor.
I remember "Revival Fire."
More like Hellfire and Brimstone.
Scaring people into religion,
One condemning sermon at a time.
"Come to the Lord!"
They'd scream
"Or a fiery eternity awaits you!"
Now, thinking on it
I'd rather take my chances
Than spend eternity
With these religious bullies.
I remember
"Getting my life right"
About five times that week.
Imagining God looking down
Ready to smite me
For my disobedience.
Claiborne Sport for Her
Used to be a fresh, pleasant scent.
Now it just evokes
Stale memories
Of a past
I would rather ignore.